Painful Lie
by LittleMissCheerios
Summary: SURPRISE! It's back! I regretted taking PL down the moment I hit remove, and well... here it is again! All revamped and awesome(er). I don't think it needs a summary. Do y'all? I mean, JUST READ (and review) THE DANG THING ALREADY!
1. Chapter 1

Reba could hear footsteps running along the path to the back door and knowing exactly who it was she didn't bother to sit back down at the island. She didn't want to chat—not tonight.

Her destination was the living room, at least if Barbra Jean was going to drive her crazy she'd be sitting comfortably on her couch and the back door burst open before she had set her foot on the cold tile of her kitchen.

"Reba, are you home—"

"I'm right here." Reba pressed the cold cloth she was holding to her pounding forehead. "And for Pete's sake, Barbra Jean, don't yell." she scuffed wearily toward the living room and it was easy to see that she was visibly worn out. She looked like she was ready to drop.

"Who's Pete?"

She groaned. It was all Brock's fault. Her day would have been hard enough, but it ended up even harder with how little sleep she'd gotten the night before because he'd practically stayed the entire night complaining about Barbra Jean and because of that she slept in past her alarm, making both she and Jake late. Then at work she'd met the most demanding man she'd ever taken on as a client. A wealthy business man with an attitude worse than Kyra's. Nothing she had done in the four hours he'd sat in her office seemed to please him. Reba's already high blood pressure had been at an all time high all day long and the second Barbra Jean had stepped through the door hollering… God help her. She didn't want to talk to Barbra Jean. She didn't want to listen to her complaints about Brock. She wanted to cry—let out all the tension, and then sleep.

Following her husband's ex-wife into the other room, Barbra Jean tried her hardest not to just blurt everything out. "Reba, there's something I just have to tell ya." Reba turned around and Barbra Jean found it increasingly more difficult to keep it to herself just a little longer. She could see the exhaustion written all over her friend's face and wanted to break it to her gently and not drop the ball right on top of her. "Before I tell you though, you need to promise me that you won't be mad, or hit me."

"You've already given me plenty of reasons be mad at you and I'm brushin' 'em all off 'til tomorrow. I'm too tense and my blood pressure is far too high to deal with anything else. And hit you? I'd be happy to. I just need to sit down, put my feet up, and relax." She paused and turned around to find Barbra Jean crawling on her knees looking up at her with puppy dog eyes. "Which means you need to go home. My blood pressure is already high enough as it is without your crazy antics and I am far too tired to deal with that kind of nonsense right now."

She finished in a huff and set her cup of coffee on the coffee table then all but collapsed onto the sofa, feeling the entire day catching up with her. Her legs ached and her feet were throbbing, her neck was stiff and her head was pounding. Barbra Jean lifted Reba's feet up so she could sit down on the couch then put them in her lap.

Reba let out an exasperated sigh and muttered quietly to herself. "I mays well get this over with… Alright, Barbra Jean, what do ya want?"

Before the blonde had a chance to open her mouth the front door swung open and in waltzed Brock. Reba groaned and let her head fall back on the armrest.

"Reba, we need to…" He trailed off and slowly closed the door behind him. At first glance he could already tell that Reba wasn't quite herself and to anyone else they'd think she was just tired, but if they knew he like he did, they'd be able to tell her skin was a little paler than usual and her hair wasn't the sassy bouncy red style it usually was. She almost looked lifeless, like a corpse. What was wrong with her?

Her current state was deeply concerning to him, it made his heart ache and it took everything in him to keep from going to her side and holding her tightly in his arms. He had said a couple years ago that he had made a mistake leaving her and though she brushed it off, he still believed it. He knew that the past few years had been taking a toll on her health and he knew he was partly to blame.

Brock kicked himself every single day for leaving her. If he'd just tried to work with her on their relationship when they were having problems they wouldn't be here right now. He wouldn't be married to a woman that drove him insane and Reba wouldn't be sitting on the end of the couch looking like she should be laying in a coffin six feet under with her legs in the lap of that same woman.

Reba had the world on her shoulders and he could see it on her face that she wasn't only worn out from today, but she was emotionally exhausted from everything. Their divorce still weighed heavily on her, on top of that she was constantly looking after everyone and keeping their lives—including his even though he knew it killed her to know all the details of his new marriage—straight.

She and Barbra Jean were best friends now, but Brock could see the resentment Reba still had towards her and it just passed right over Barbra Jean's head. He had to do something about Reba's stress levels before her body couldn't handle it again.

When she collapsed at Van and Cheyenne's vow renewal he had never been so scared in his life. He realized, with her unconscious body laying limply against his chest that he still loved her. Since that day he vowed to find a way to get her back and now feeling his second marriage with Barbra Jean crumbling, he knew he had to do something to build he and Reba's relationship back up before she ended up resenting him for allowing another marriage to fall apart.

"Are you alright, Reba?" he asked, clearly concerned. Brock moved quickly around the back of the couch and stood behind her at the arm of the couch. He set his hands on her shoulders and immediately felt the tension. He thought he'd push his luck and give her an inconspicuous massage. God knows she needed a spa day.

She remained quiet and rolled her neck ever so slightly. For just a brief moment, she let herself enjoy the feeling of having someone look after her. But wait… she shook him off.

"No, I'm not alright! I haven't had a moment's peace to myself all day!" she jumped up and hastily threw the cloth at the table. Hard enough to make some of the remaining water mist out of it. If they were still married she would have stayed there forever with Brock massaging her shoulders. It felt, like home, familiar. But no, instead she stormed into the kitchen.

"Mama Mia that's a one spicy red head." Barbra Jean whispered in a sad attempt to lighten the situation. She glanced at her husband.

"She's exhausted, Barbra Jean."

Barbra Jean grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

Reba poured her coffee down the sink, grabbed a glass of water and sat back on a stool with her hands on her head massaging her temples. Now she regretted moving from his touch.

"Reba." Barbra Jean said softly.

"What?" Reba snapped, with her elbows on the counter and her head still in her hands, voice laced with venom.

"Is this a bad time? Because we could come back later—"

She turned herself around on the stool to glare at him. "Oh, no of course not, Brock! It's a great time for the two of you to barge into my house at—" she pulled back her sleeve and checked the time. "Six o'clock in the evening! You couldn't have picked a better day to come over! I had a wonderful day at work, everything went without a hitch all day. Now I get to come home to a loving family who have all their chores done, a house that's been thoroughly cleaned, children who have all their homework done, and when I go to open the oven there's going to be a tuna casserole all cooked and ready to serve for supper. All in all my days been just peachy!"

"Sounds like you've got it good over here, maybe I should just move in with you." Barbra Jean commented as she pulled down the oven door and peered in.

"Great. Highlight of my life." she muttered. Brock snorted and she rolled her eyes up to look at him.

"Barbra Jean, maybe we should go." Brock said.

Reba sighed. "No, Brock. I'm sorry. Y'all had something to tell me?"

"You go first." Barbra Jean said quickly.

"You were here first."

"Yeah, but you were here last. The one who's last always goes first."

"Since when?" Brock exclaimed.

"Stop it! Someone tell me something or get out so I can go to bed."

Brock motioned to Barbra Jean who groaned. "Okay, well I was going to tell just you, Reba… but since you're here too, Brock. I guess I can tell both of you at once. Two birds with one stone, right?"

Reba looked at Brock in hopes that this story wouldn't be too long. He shrugged shaking his head and sat beside her. Whatever it was, he had no idea.

"Tell both of us what?" Reba and Brock ask in unison.

Barbra Jean hesitated. "Well, this might upset everything."

"Upset everything? Why, Barbra Jean? What is going on?" Brock asked her.

"Did you steal somebody else's husband?" Reba snickered.

"Reba!" he snaps at her.

"What?" she met his glare with one of her own, arching an eyebrow. "Just tell us, Barbra Jean," Reba urged. "If it affects us all we need to know." she says.

"I know. Okay. Well, back when Brock and I were having an affair. He, uh, he wasn't the only married man I was sleeping with. There was Dr. Gomez… and Dr. Fisher... and some other people. So I thought well, just for the heck of it, I'd get a paternity test done on Henry." Barbra Jean said. "And uh, well y-y-you see," she paused.

"Spit it out Barbra Jean!" Reba snapped. She could feel that this wasn't going to be a short story.

"Brock's not Henry's father!" Barbra Jean blurts and immediately covers her mouth with her hands.

Brock leaped out of his chair. "What!?" he yelled, eyebrows raised and mouth gaping open.

After a moment of silence, the kitchen door opened to reveal a chocolate faced Henry, licking his grubby fingers removing leftover cookie crumbs and melted chocolate.

His eyes opened wider upon seeing his mother. "Oh, heeeey, Mommy. Jake said I could have a cookie, and Aunt Reba makes the bestest choco chip cookies in the world." he said quickly.

Brock managed to snap out of his confused daze long enough to give the small boy a cookie off the plate on the counter behind a un characteristically silent and unmoving Reba.

"Thanks daddy," he bit into the treat. "Aunt Reba, these are yummy!"

"Buddy, can you go back outside with your brother, so the adults can talk?" Brock asked.

Henry nodded and ran back out the door, but not before grabbing a couple more cookies. "These are for Jake!"

Brock smiled and turned back to the island and Reba numbly laid her hand on his arm. She looked pale and he knew she _really_ didn't need yelling right now, so he kept his voice down. "What do you mean Henry isn't my son?"

"Well, honey. When I met you everything just seemed to disappear. I forgot about everyone else."

Reba rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You didn't forget. You saw you had three—or more—men to choose from and _my_ husband seemed the most financially stable, right?"

"No! Reba, no I would never even dream of doing what you're saying. I honestly never thought anything of it when I found out I was pregnant."

"By not thinking anything of it, you've lied to all of us for years, Barbra Jean. I divorced Reba because of that kid and he isn't even mine!"

"Well, no matter what he's always going to be your son. You raised him. I love you, honey." says Barbra Jean nervously.

The breath Reba forced herself to take at those three little words didn't go unnoticed by Brock. And neither had all the forced smiles and forced kindesss she'd given he and Barbra Jean in the last seven years.

"Barbra Jean, save it. If I'm not Henry's father, who is?" Brock asked angrily. He was trying his absolute hardest to keep calm. Reba was going to blow up at Barbra Jean and if he let himself get out of control there'd be nobody there that would be able to watch her blood pressure.

Barbra Jean didn't answer and it gave Reba time to recover and react. "Barbra Jean. Who is Henry's father?" she asked as she slowly got up from the stool.

Barbra Jean backed up out of her reach. "I don't know, but it's not Brock."

"What?!" The red head blew a fuse and stalked toward her yelling and screaming. "You tore apart my family for a child you claimed was Brock's when you weren't even sure? Of all the stupid, idiotic, self-centred things you've done… I've been able to brush off most of 'em. But _this, _picking the man you liked best because you didn't know who the father of your baby was. Ripping apart an unstable marriage when we all knew it could've been saved is just plain unforgivable! Lori Ann was right, you are a tooth tart!"

"Reba!"

She waved him off. "No, Brock! I was nice to you, Barbra Jean. When I didn't have to or need to. What kind of ex-wife has a "friendship" with the woman who stole her husband?" she asked rhetorically and then laughed. "Nobody, except me!"

"Self-centred?" Barbra Jean asked, dumfounded. Reba nodded. "I've been self-centered?" Barbra Jean repeated.

Reba threw her hands in the air. "Yes!" she snapped.

"If anybody's self-centered it's you." Barbra Jean shouted.

Reba was shocked to silence. "Excuse me?" she stepped back.

Brock had been watching the entire thing unfold cautiously. He didn't know whether he should wait for Reba to start yelling again to force her out of there to calm her down or if he should just take her by the arm right now. Deciding against both he settled for warning her about her blood pressure instead. Reba shot at glare his way and he refrained from saying anything else.

"You heard me, Reba. Three years ago you _hated_ that Kyra decided to move in with us because you couldn't stand her wanting to live with me. You wanted her all to yourself. You're a Kyra hog. You don't want any of the kids around me." Barbra Jean spat.

"Barbra Jean, that was three years ago." Brock started

"And what about the time you flat-out refused to let me cook thanksgiving dinner because it was your "tradition?" Or when Cheyenne she and Van made Brock and I, Elizabeth's guardians?

"Don't push it, Barbra Jean."

"Would you shut up, Brock? I don't care!"

"You will if she ends up in the hospital tonight—or worse!" Brock yelled.

He didn't want Reba to have to go through all that tonight. He could feel that she was at her breaking point. In all the years of being married to and of knowing her he had never seen her like this. So cold. So cruel. So speechless.

"Reba I've tolerated a lot of mean zings and hurtful words from you behind my back, and to my face, but I chose to ignore them all instead of react but I can't take it anymore!" Barbra Jean stepped closer to her best friend and when she was standing face to face with her she grabbed Reba by the shoulders and shoved.

The force of it sent Reba stumbling back and her yelp turned into a scream and then into air as she collided with the counter. She felt she was falling in slow motion, knowing full well she had enough time to catch herself, but she didn't. She was in shock. When she saw Barbra Jean moving closer she knew she should have moved, but her pride wouldn't let her.

"Barbra Jean, what the _hell_?" Brock yelled. He rushed to Reba's side and crouched beside her, helping her up just as Van walked into the kitchen.

"Mrs. H, what's with all the yell—Mr. H, what did you do to her?" Van says also going to Reba's side to help her up.

"I didn't do anything to her!"

"It was me." Barbra Jean said numbly.

"Barbra Jean?" Van asked, walking over to her with a shocked expression. He didn't know what happened, but it must have been bad for Barbra Jean to snap like that.

With Reba's weight completely supported against him Brock half carried half walked Reba into the living room. He looked to her face and she was ghostly, her breathing laboured. He eased her onto the couch and Reba squeezed her eyes shut and locked her jaw to keep from crying out.

"God!" Reba gasped. She felt her eyes beginning to close. This was all too much.

Brock jerked her head to face him. "Don't you dare. You fight it."

She shook her head. "I can't." she breathed.

"You're going to."

Kyra flew down from the dining room to Brock's side. "Mom, what hurts?"

"Kyra, I'm alright." she shifted her weight and tried to sit up, but her body failed her. Pure agony made her vision go black for a moment and when she reopened her eyes she was staring at the ceiling, her body limp against the cushions.

"I saw everything, Mom. I think you twisted your ankle, and you might have a concussion, you hit the floor pretty hard. Try not to panic, okay?"

"Oh, my God, Kyra, you don't tell someone not to panic! It automatically makes them panic even more!" Van cried.

Reba lifted her arm to catch their attention. "Shh, shh, shhh. Don't talk so loud."

"Mom, we're not."

Reba rolled her head to the side. "Brock. Why are you so far away?"

"Dad."

"Reba, I'm right beside you." he said. "Van, go call an ambulance. I could drive her, but I think it's best we don't move her."

"Dad. We still don't know exactly what's wrong. I know first aid. I took a course a couple of months ago for shits and giggles. Thought it might come in handy." she hovered her hands over Reba's lower leg. "Mom, can I?"

"Kyra, I dunno if you should…"

Reba nodded. "I'm in too much pain for the two of you to start arguin'." she said through clenched teeth.

Kyra started checking Reba's leg, but she wasn't exactly sure what was hurting because the poor woman was hurting all over. Everyone knew it when Kyra put pressure on Reba's hips that there was something wrong. The whole house knew it. The neighbours knew it. The whole damn neighbourhood knew it.

"Kyra!" Reba shrieked.

She pulled her hands back. "Mom, I'm sorry." Kyra looked at Brock for a moment. "Dad, I need you to hold her down, okay? Van, go in the kitchen and find pain killers. Extra strength. And, Ma. You sit tight, don't move, and try not to hit me."

Cheyenne was just coming through the door with Elizabeth after a day of shopping. "What the hell is going on in here? I could hear Mom—oh, my God, what happened?" she cried.

"Barbra Jean shoved her into the counter and I'm pretty sure something's broken." Kyra replied.

"Honey, I'm fine." Reba said breathlessly.

Kyra glared at her mother. "No, Mom, you are not fine.

Brock returned with water and crouched beside his ex-wife again. "Here."

She shook her head. "I don't want them."

He sighed. "Reba, please. You're in pain."

She met his eyes, and knowing he was on the brink himself she took his hand. "I'm okay."

"Dad." Kyra said and he nodded.

"Elizabeth, I think Henry's out back with Jake. Go outside and play with them okay, baby?"

"Okay."

"Daddy, I need you to keep her still."

Brock knelt on the couch behind Reba and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Honey, if you need to hit me. Hit me, scratch me, swear at me. Whatever you need to do, you do it."

Reba shifted and gasped in pain. "No, no. Don't move me. Don't."

Cheyenne walked around the couch and took Kyra by the arm and stood her up. "Listen to her for once in your life, Kyra. I heard her from outside in my car. Do not cause her anymore pain."

"I need to know what's broken, or if something's even broken. It might just be a dislocation."

"Kyra, Honey," Reba began. "Somethin' is definitely broken, trust me. I heard it and sure as hell felt it."

Brock shifted ever so slightly and Reba's entire body jerked. "Damn it, Brock. Stop moving me!" she cried.

He looked down apologetically with grief written all over his face. Her faded hair looked crimson in comparison to her skin. The colour had drained from her face making her look ghostly.

Reba knew when she hit the counter that she broke something, she heard a crack. Her hip hit with such force it felt like her whole leg had shattered, her lower ribs hit as she was falling and she knew for a fact she had broken a couple of them as well. And apparently she'd twisted her ankle, but she didn't feel anything. The pain of a twisted ankle was completely wiped out with the agony she was feeling in her hip.

"Brock." she whispered before her eyes fluttered closed. Her body no longer able to stand the pain and the trauma any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

_Reba looked up from the dish she was absently drying. "Huh?"_

_"__I said, I told Jake he could spend the night at a friend's. You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" Kyra asked. "Mom?"_

_Reba looked up again, eyebrows raised._

_Kyra waved. "Hi! Are you in there? __Where'd you go?"_

_"__Nowhere. Sorry, Honey."_

_She put her hand on her hip, just like Reba always did. "What did I just say?"_

_Reba paused for a moment. "Laundry's done. Jake's at a friend's. Something about... something." She mumbled._

_Kyra laughed and took the plate Reba was holding from her. "Thought so." she muttered then took the dish towel from her too. "Listen, Mom. You look a little high strung. Why don't you go rest while I finish up out here?"_

_Reba shook her head. "I need to be busy. I have to be doing something."_

_She took her mother by the shoulders and ushered her around the island. "Mom, you don't look well. Have you been working too hard again?"_

_Reba pulled herself up on the stool . "No. Honey, I'm just—"_

_Sitting beside her, Kyra slid a couple of magazines out of her way. "Overworking yourself?" She offered as she turned toward her mother and set her elbow on the counter._

_Sometimes her mother just didn't know how or when to slow down. She didn't know what had gotten into her lately, maybe it was because Jake was about to start high school. Or maybe it was because she herself wasn't going to college and refused to have a backup plan. Hell, it could be because Cheyenne and Van had just moved back into their house after the fire he started. _

_She sighed. "Kyra, Honey. Things are just getting harder for me what with my blood pressure lately."_

_"__Maybe if you slowed down—"_

_Reba raised her arm and ran her fingers through her daughter's long red hair. "Baby, you know I can't do that. I've got mouths to feed and bills to pay."_

_"__Mom, you are forty-five years old and all your birdies are almost grown. Stop fretting over us. We got this. Apart from Cheyenne we do know how to use the stove, you know?" She lowered her voice. "And believe it or not, Jake and I have been doing most of the chores before you get home from work."_

_Reba smiled. "I noticed. Thank you."_

_Kyra reached for Reba's hand and set their grasp on the counter top. "He told me something the other day that I think you should know." She started. "I didn't think much of it at the time, but now that he pointed it out, and seeing you like this..."_

_Reba gripped Kyra's fingers. "What is it, Baby?"_

_She swallowed. "He thinks you're sick, Mom. Your own son thinks you're working yourself to death. He's thirteen years old and he noticed it before I did and that's partly my fault for never being home. But, Mom, I shouldn't have to look into his big brown terrified eyes and tell him that I don't know what's wrong with our mother."_

_Dropping Kyra's hand, Reba got up and went around to the sink to finish the dishes. _

_"__Mom. You are okay, right? I can tell him that you're perfectly fine and that nothing's the matter, right?"_

_Reba said nothing._

_Now Kyra got up and went around the island. She grabbed Reba's hand and pulled her around, sending a crystal wineglass crashing to the floor. The tiny shards making tinkling sounds, like glass wind chimes as they bounced to a stop at their feet._

_"__Mom."_

_Reba pulled away and got the broom from beside the fridge. _

_"__Mom, please! Don't do this. Tell me what's wrong." She demanded._

_Letting the broom fall back into its place, Reba turned to face her daughter. "I'm not dyin', if that's what you wanna know."_

_"__Is that supposed to be comforting?" Kyra exclaimed._

_Reba exhaled and leaned back against the island. "It's my blood pressure again." She chewed the inside of her cheek. "It's high. Very high. And the doctor's are worried."_

_Kyra sunk and softened her words. "Is there anything I can do to help?"_

_"__Honey." Reba sighed. _

_"__I'm serious. If there's anything I can do, anything any of us kids can do to help you bring it down, you name it and it's done."_

_"__There's not really anything that can be done."_

_"__Take some time off. Go on a vacation. Jake can stay with dad and Barbra Jean and I'll stay with Cheyenne and Van, or Mikey if you want the house to yourself?"_

_She shook her head. "I need you kids to stay right where you are. Y'all have been keeping my sane while I've been trying to deal with this."_

_"__How long?"_

_"__Couple months."_

_Kyra's jaw dropped slightly. "And you didn't tell anyone?" She exclaimed. "Mom, this is serious! This is your health we're talking about here. Your heart!"_

_"__What else am I supposed to do, Honey? I'm working full time and y'all are always comin' runnin' with some sort of crisis that needs to be handled. I have no choice but to keep doing exactly what I'm doin' because if I don't everything's gonna fall apart and I can't let that happen. Not now when everything's relatively stable."_

_"__What are you talking about?" Kyra asked and then she gasped in realization. "Wait a minute. Dad and Barbra Jean have been talking about divorce again for the past couple months. Is that what's got you so on edge?"_

_Reba shook her head. "Well, that's part of it, but there's something else I haven't told you kids."_

_"__Oh, my God, Mom... what? Do you have some secret life we don't know about or something?" Reba closed her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. "Right. Sorry. Go on."_

_She couldn't help it, sometimes things flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Snapping at her mother right now was the last thing Reba needed. _

_"__Six weeks ago our head agent fell ill and Mr. MacKenzie asked me to take his place. Well, Joe passed last Friday and now the position is mine. Permanently." She said. "Surprise." she said unenthusiastically._

_"__I'm so sorry… are you okay? I mean, were you close to this guy?"_

_"__I knew him. Not well, but he taught me a thing or two from time to time. Told me that my determination reminded him of his daughter." Reba smiled then rubbed her temples. "All this stress is really gettin' to me though. I don't know how much longer I can handle it and according to my doctors, if I keep it up I won't be around _to_ handle it much longer."_

_Two steps forward and Kyra had pulled her mother into a tight, comforting hug. "Mom."_

_"__Believe me, Baby. If I could take some time off, I would." She whispered._

_Holding Reba at arms length Kyra studied her carefully. "You're exhausted. Here, I'll tell you what." She went to the wine rack and pulled down a bottle of red wine and a wine glass. "Have a couple glasses and go on to bed."_

_Reba took them from her and smiled. "As much as I want to fight you on this, you're not gonna back down, are you?" She asked._

_Kyra shook her head._

_"__That's my girl. I'm too tired to fight you anyway." She kissed the side of Kyra's head and left the kitchen._

_Once the glass was all swept up and the dishes were put away, Kyra grabbed a glass of water and sat down at the island to read her new magazine and she knew before her mother spoke that she was already starting to feel the wine._

_"__Kyra, come in here for a second." she called and watched Kyra walk into the living room from the couch. "Honey, weren't you supposed to be at your father's tonight?"_

_She laughed. "How much have you had, Ma? No. Barbra Jean asked me to come over, but I told her that'd I'm staying home with you tonight."_

_Reba sighed. "Did you tell her about my blood pressure?"_

_With a smile Kyra took the wineglass from Reba's hand. "No, Mom. You only just told me about it. How would I have known to tell her? Besides, I know that when your blood pressure starts to go up the best thing for you is to be away from Barbra Jean. I wouldn't ever make the mistake of telling her only to have her come barging in to pester you."_

_Reba seemed satisfied with that and rose from the couch. "Good girl."_

_"Where are you going?"_

_Reba looked at her daughter. "If you must know, I have to go to the unspeakable place to do the unmentionable." She stumbled to the side and caught herself on the edge of the coffee table. "Whew! My head is spinnin'."_

_"__Mom, be careful!" Kyra smirked. "You must be pretty tipsy if you're quoting Van."_

_"__Honey, you ain't seen tipsy. But I have work tomorrow, so you're not gonna."_

_"__You work on Saturday?"_

_"__No, I work Friday."_

_"__Today is Friday, Mom."_

_Reba flopped back down on the couch and plucked her wineglass out of Kyra's hands. "Oh, well in that case. Top me off there, would ya?"_

_Kyra nodded and did just that. Reba didn't think she'd let her drink on a work night, did she? Kyra was all for drinking and partying, but she wouldn't let her own mother, far more stressed than she ever thought possible, go to work with a hangover._

_"__Cheers." Kyra and Reba clinked glasses. Reba her pricy crystal wine glass and Kyra the bottle of red wine, after taking a long pull she handed the bottle back to her mother and sat comfortably on the couch._

_"__Why'd you ask if I was supposed to be at Dad's tonight?"_

_Reba blinked. "I was just thinking about what your dad said last night when he was here."_

_"__Dad was here?" She asked. "Well, that would explain why he was upstairs in the hallway last night. But wait… why was he upstairs in the hallway at four in the morning?" she cried. "Are you and dad—?"_

_"__Oh, God no! He was complaining to me about Barbra Jean and talking about how they'd already drawn up their divorce papers and all that was left to do was sign. And yes, I'll admit that I had a few drinks to keep myself in line. He must've carried me upstairs after I passed out. That was sweet of him." she murmured._

_"__Mom, why didn't you tell him to go home? If he'd known about your blood pressure he wouldn't have laid all that on you."_

_"__I know."_

_"__So, why?"_

_Reba smiled contently, reminiscing on the night before. The things they'd talked about before she ended up too drunk to remember the rest of the night. "Even though we're not married anymore, I still enjoy his company, Sweetheart."_

_"__Even if he is complaining about our giant fruit loop of a step mother?"_

_"__Yes. Even if he is complaining about Barbra Jean."_

_There was a long pause between the two red heads. Reba tapped her glass with her nails in between large sips of wine and when her glass was empty she reached forward for the bottle, but Kyra grabbed her wrist._

_"__Kyra?"_

_Her daughter smiled. "I don't want you hungover tomorrow, okay? How are you feelin' now? Less stressed?"_

_She nodded and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Baby."_

_Before she could drift off, Kyra shook her shoulder. "Come back in the kitchen for a bit. I'll make you some coffee and you can tell me all about your new position at work."_

_"__Gettin' me drunk only to sober me up? Sweetheart—"_

_"__You had to de stress somehow, and I knew you wouldn't be able to talk about it any other way."_

_Reba snickered, her drunkenness coming out. "You're sneaky."_

_"__Yeah, I get that from you."_

"Reba, you open your eyes! You stay with me, do you hear me?" Brock cried hastily as Reba's eyes stayed closed much longer than the average blink.

"Dad, it's too much. She can't."

"Kyra, not now." Brock exclaimed. "Reba, fight it. At least until the paramedics get here, Honey. You can do it."

"Daddy, please! Don't ask so much of her! She's not well!"

All eyes were on Kyra as Reba slipped in and out of consciousness. "What are you talking about?" Brock asked.

"Her blood pressure! It's been so high lately that even her doctors are worried. God, dad! You've seen her! She's exhausted all the time!"

"She seemed fine to us, didn't she Cheyenne?" Van asked.

Kyra spun around and glared at them. "Oh, of course she did! You're never around to see otherwise! And when you are the two of you just pile more drama on top of everything else!" she yelled. "You don't see it like Jake and I do. She is killing herself! She is working herself to death trying to keep us all happy and our home stable!"

"Kyra—" Reba croaked, hearing only bits and pieces of what her daughter was saying above her combined pain.

Brock stopped fretting over his ex-wife and moved to his daughter who immediately took his place at Reba's side.

"Mom." Kyra whispered and Reba opened her eyes enough to focus on her before they closed again.

"Kyra—"

"No, Dad! We've all known about her blood pressure for the past two years and nobody, not a single one of us has done anything to make it any easier for her. This is her health we're talking about. Her heart! Do you realize that the heart is what keeps the entire body going? If it stops, that's it and she's practically been on the brink of a heart attack for the last two months, Dad! I didn't even notice until Jake pointed out how sick she looked because I haven't been home either! But I was tonight, I confronted her and I got her to relax and let me in. You and Barbra Jean and Van and Cheyenne all show up and look what happened!" She grabbed her mother's hand and leaned in close. "Mom, if you can hear me, don't listen to them. Let your body shut itself down, it needs to. That pull you're feeling, just let it pull you away from us. Just for a little while. You'll be fine."

Cheyenne scrambled to her sister and pushed her back. "You little bitch! Why would you tell her something like that?" she was hysterical.

Kyra got up and fixed her clothing. "Cheyenne, I know you're pregnant and all, but I'll have no trouble slapping you right across the face." she spat. "This isn't about you, Princess, this is about Mom."

Brock stepped in between the two girls. "Cheyenne, got tell the kids to stay in the yard. Now." Cheyenne didn't say a word as she stormed out of the house. "Van, you go flag down the ambulance. You have a better idea of what happened." When he turned around Kyra was kneeling on the floor clinging to Reba's hand.

"She's still breathing." She said distantly. "And her heart's still beating. I told you she'd be fine."

He crouched beside her and bushed her hair back. "Sweetie, I'm sorry—"

Van burst in. "They're here!"

At the Hospital Kyra sat in the waiting room with her head in her hands, while Brock paced the floor. "Dad, what happened for Barbra Jean to do that to Mom?"

"I don't know. She just snapped." Brock answered

"Dad, I could see what was happening from the dining room. All I know is that Barbra Jean said something to upset you and mom. So, what happened?"

He told her. He told her everything.

Kyra was quiet for a long time and when she did speak, it was barely a whisper. "She's not over you."

Brock stopped pacing. "What?"

"She's not over you. Mom isn't over the divorce. I thought she was, but I can see it now. She's not. You said she thought your marriage could've been saved. Is that true?"

"Kyra, honey. I don't know. If we'd known about Henry—"

"Even if you didn't know about Henry. Could your marriage have been saved?"

He sat down in the seat next to her. "We fought. A lot."

"But you loved each other. You were married for twenty years, Dad. Doesn't that say something to you?" Kyra waited for a moment to study him before she continued. "You've known each other longer than you haven't. She stayed with you for twenty years of her life and she would have stayed with you for twenty more. That ring never left her finger, Dad."

"Except the time she threw it out the window…"

Kyra laughed. "Yeah, but then y'all got out and searched for it in that cornfield until morning."

Brock smiled. Remembering.

"Dad, what the two of you had—was real. When I was little I used to think of the two of you as more of a fairy tale than sleeping beauty. I dreamed of having a love that strong. I wanted to be just like you two. You didn't even have to speak to communicate with each other… you just knew." She smiled. "It was magical to see that. In the kitchen before school, right before you'd leave you'd peck her lips and she'd hand you your keys. Us kids used to cover our eyes, but I'd always peak through my fingers to see the two of you just holding each other—smiling, and I'd go to school with that in my mind. Mommy and Daddy were happy. They loved each other.

"And I always loved how you'd steal glances at each other from across the dinner table while Cheyenne and I would chatter about our day at school." she smiled and laughed. "But my favourite was every night when you came home from work. We'd be sitting at the kitchen table and she'd be pouring us each a glass of milk and in you'd come and announce in that big warm voice of yours "Honey, I'm home!" and you'd gently touch her back. Dad, if you could've only seen the way her face would light up when you did that…" Kyra had silent tears rolling freely down her cheeks.

Brock sat in awe. "Sweetheart, you were tiny, how can you remember all that?"

Kyra ignored him. "I stopped believing in fairy tales like that nine years ago. When you started fighting. First I thought that maybe it was something I did, but as time went on I realized that the two of you were falling apart. One day, you just stopped touching her. You didn't kiss her. I didn't tell her you loved her at all in those last two years—not like you meant it."

"Kyra—"

"One day you started pulling away from her. I remember that day. You didn't come in the back door and sneak up behind her like you always did. You came in the front door, you cracked open a beer, and you went at sat on the couch and watched golf and when I came downstairs the next morning before anyone was awake, you were still there.

"When she came downstairs I knew she hadn't slept. Though she acted normal, I could see it in her eyes that whatever happened the night before was killing her inside."

Brock wiped away a tear before Kyra could notice it. He remembered that night too. "I don't know what happened to me. Something was off that night. When I pulled into the drive I didn't feel like myself. I felt like a stranger when I walked up to the door. I stood there watching her play and laugh with you kids, little Jake on her hip, you and Cheyenne dancing around the kitchen. I turned around, and came in the other way. I thought once I got though the door and heard her laughing the feeling would pass, but it never did."

"You should have talked to her, Dad! Everything changed that night! You pulled away and Mom—" Kyra's voice broke. "She shut down emotionally and lashed out with anger. You started fighting after that, you went at it like rabid pit bulls almost every night and over the stupidest things! You fought with her over the toaster, Dad! The God damn toaster!" She gasped for air through her sobs. "I hated seeing her suffer the way she did after you left! She cried herself to sleep so many nights I lost count. I could hear her through the wall trying to muffle her sobs so we couldn't hear, but I still could. It broke my heart, Dad, and you're still breakin' hers."

"What do you mean I'm still breaking her heart?" he asks.

"You come into her house and flaunt your relationship with Barbra Jean right all the time, and if you're not flaunting it, you're complaining to her about it. You're giving her whiplash! You're giving me whiplash! Did it ever occur to you that she might feel a little uncomfortable with that? You were married for twenty years, do you think it was easy for her to see you with another woman?"

"Honey, I didn't realize—"

"How could you not know?" Kyra yells jumping up out of the chair. "Dad, it's killing her! She has so much on her plate already and you and Barbra Jean are constantly running over dozens of times a day with your ridiculous marital problems. She doesn't even get to sit down before one of you are back through the door half the time. She's completely exhausted when she comes home from work. Her new position has been stressing her out so much that she can't even function properly anymore. Van, if he and Cheyenne are over and they usually are, and Jake attack her as soon as she opens the door asking what's for supper. I'm surprised she even comes home every night! She can't handle it all on her own and she doesn't have anyone to help her anymore. She can't even move on and find someone because you keep telling her you "think" made a mistake leaving her. Dad, it's too much, she's strong, but she's not that strong. Her body cannot handle anything like that anymore. She has lost an unhealthy amount of weight in the last two months and I noticed after Jake pointed it out that her hands tremble. She is sick, Dad."

Cheyenne and Van walk in with the others and the second Cheyenne sees Kyra's face she drops her purse and runs over, nearly knocking hers sister over with a hug.

"How is she?" Cheyenne asked.

Kyra sobbed. "We don't know yet."

"Mr. Hart?" A doctor called as he came out of two big metal doors.

"Yes." Brock stood.

He shook Brock's hand. "Your wife's in pretty bad shape. She must have taken quite the tumble."

Kyra and Brock share a look.

"She suffered a concussion, broke two ribs, sprained her ankle and she's in surgery right now."

"Surgery?" Brock exclaimed.

"Reconstructive surgery. She must have had a hard fall for it to completely shatter like that."

"Shatter?" Kyra cried. "I thought it was dislocated!"

"With a quick glance that's how it would've seemed. The deformation of the area itself would look quite similar to a dislocation. I applaud you for that assumption, and I also applaud you all for not attempting to move her. That was a good call. She would have been in excruciating agony if anyone other than our trained professionals had attempted to move her. Also, her blood alcohol levels were just above normal, which may have aided in suppressing her pain slightly. I would not advice drinking alcohol after a traumatic incident such as this, but it did no harm."

Kyra tensed. "She didn't drink it after. She drank it a couple hours before. Red wine. Four glasses. She was so stressed when she came home that I thought maybe it would help her relax. I was with her and I cut her off at four. I couldn't just leave her with the bottle, she wasn't in her right mind." she sobbed. "Her blood pressure! She's been so stressed. It's killing her!" she managed between hiccups.

"High blood pressure…" The doctor mused. "Well, that explains a lot."

"When can we see her?" Cheyenne said.

"You can see her in a few hours when she's out of surgery and the anesthetic wears off." he says. "I'll have a nurse tell you when she's awake." he said. That satisfied the kids, but it gave Brock no piece of mind. The doctor pointed toward the corridor just outside the waiting room and Brock followed. "It's physically impossible to injure yourself this badly from a simple fall. These are the kind of injuries we see from motor vehicle accident and domestic violence victims."

Brock was shocked. "Are you implying that I—"

"No, of course not. I'm simply asking what happened so we know how to care for her."

Brock ran his hand through his hair. "She's my ex-wife, and I can tell you right now, that I have never _ever_ laid a hand on her."

"Then what happened? Two broken ribs, a concussion, a sprained ankle, and a hip that needs to be completely reconstructed if not replaced."

Brock exhaled. "She's always been so fragile… my current wife, had dropped something on us today that completely turned everything upside down. She and Reba got into an argument. Reba's a small woman. My wife shoved her a little too hard and Reba hit the counter and then the floor. That's all I know. We're all a in shock from the news and now this."

"May I ask what it was that your wife told the two of you? I don't mean to pry, but it would help me to understand why things got physical."

"Do keep in mind that my current wife idolizes my ex-wife and she wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone her best friend."

"Mr. Hart, what happened?"

"It's a long and complicated story, but my current wife was the other woman to that lovely redheaded woman in there under the knife right now. There was a child. Tonight, I found out that this child is not mine. Needless to say, Reba and I were furious. Words were said in haste, nobody was thinking rationally, and so, here we are."


	3. Chapter 3

Brock and Kyra had been up taking turns outside Reba's door in ICU all night long. It was Brock pacing up and down the hallway when the nurse came out of her room after being in there for a good half hour.

He pounced. "Is she awake? How is she? Can I see her?"

The woman stepped back in fright. "Oh, Mr. Hart! I uh—yes, she's awake, stable, and yes, you can—"

Brock was already through the door. "Reba?" he called softly.

"Have you been here all night?" she asked with her eyes still closed.

Brock shook his head. "No, no. Of course not."

"Liar." she chucked while wincing in pain at the movement. "I saw you pacing. You walk a rut in the tile out there or what?"

Still had her sense of humour, despite the situation. "Still crackin' jokes, I see. That's my girl."

A smile broke across her face and suddenly he was glad he didn't go home, even when Van and Cheyenne offered to stay and call him if anything changed. He couldn't go home. He couldn't leave her, not now. Not after everything Kyra had told him. He knew exactly how he felt about her, but he knew Reba and even if she did feel the same way she'd never admit it to him or anyone else, including herself. She put up a defensive front toward him since the night that changed everything and he knew now that it was his fault. He'd forced her into emotionally shutting down and he'd never forgive himself for that.

She reached for his hand, seeming to sense his distress. "Hey, I ain't dead yet. I'm still here."

Brock laced his fingers thorough hers, and she squeezed his hand comfortingly. There she was again, putting his well-being over her own health. "You should have told me your blood pressure, Reba. And about the promotion, and how much pressure you've been under and all the stress you've been carrying around. I mean, I could see something wasn't right, but I had no idea, Honey. If I had I'd've—"

"Shhh, shh." she smiled. "I didn't want anyone to know."

"Damn it, Reba! Stop being so damn stubborn all the time! You are in the hospital. You could've had a heart attack. You could have died. Our kids could've lost their mother last night."

"Brock! Chill out. They didn't lose me. I'm still right here. My heart is perfectly fine and I know exactly where I am, who I am, and today's date. Relax."

He scooted his chair closer to her and kissed her cheek. "You scared me. Letting go like that last night after we fought so hard to make sure you held on until the paramedics arrived."

"Kyra was right, Brock. I needed to let go like that. Nothing was going to happen to me, and nothing did. My blood pressure levelled out and I had a damn good nap. Best I've slept in years. I should get myself an anaesthesiologist because oh, my God. To sleep like that every single night would be amazing."

"Reba, stop joking around. You look like hell."

She snorted. "Thanks for that. I feel like I've been thrown by a bull and run over by a eighteen wheeler. Yep, pretty sure this is what hell feels like too."

"You know what I mean."

Reba lifted her arm to brush his hair out of his eyes and noticed the bruises all over her arm. She lifted the other to investigate, then lifted the sheet to look at her legs and her hip. "Oh, my God." she whispered.

"What?" he asked.

"How did I manage this?"

"What do you mean? Don't you remember?"

"Remember?" she breathed. "All I remember is you and Kyra arguing in the living room. Brock, what happened last night?"

"Do you remember Barbra Jean being over buggin' you?"

"Yeah." she said slowly. "Then you showed up and had something to tell me."

"So did she. Do you remember what she told us?"

"Us? She told you too?"

"Yes. It affects both of us. If you can't remember, don't push yourself. It'll come to you eventually."

"Alright…" she yawned and closed her eyes.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Her eyes snapped open. "Brock, you idiot! You know how much I hate hospitals, don't you dare leave me here alone."

He shook his head with a smile. "Okay, Angel. I'll stay. You get some rest."

"I was out for fifteen hours. I don't need it, but you do. You look like hell, Brock. Did you sleep at all last night?"

He shook his head and kissed the back of her hand. "I was too worried about you."

"You need sleep."

"Later. Right now I'm gonna stay right here with you."

She rolled her eyes. "Where are the kids?"

"Right here, Mom." Kyra smiled as she, Van and Cheyenne filed into the room.

Reba looked at each of them then continued to search. "I'm here too." Jake's voice came.

Cheyenne turned her phone around, holding it up for Reba to see. "He's with Elizabeth." She handed her phone to her father.

"Hey, Baby." Reba said with a small wave.

"How are you?" he asked.

Her smile broadened at her son's concern. "Still breathin'."

"I wanna see her too, Uncle Jake!"

Jake handed his phone to his niece and she held it up close to her face. "Liz, back up a little bit so she can see you." He laughed.

"Get better soon, okay, Grandma? I love you!"

"Love you too, Sweetheart."

Jake came back on. "What she said. Mom, I wanna see you back home and bossing me around ASAP. I gotta go, my phone's gonna die. I love you."

Reba laughed lightly. "You plug that phone in, Mister. And do your homework!"

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled and waved and then he was gone.

Brock handed Cheyenne back her cell phone. "Kids, go home and get some rest. Shower. Eat."

"What about you, Mr. H?"

"He's not gonna leave." Reba said slapping his arm. "Even though he knows he should."

"You just asked me to stay, Woman! Make up your mind!" he laughed. "But she's right. I'm not leaving. I need to talk to her. Alone."

He and Reba shared a look and she nodded. "Go on, Kids. I'm fine now. A little disoriented and confused about what happened, but I'm not going anywhere." She looked at her daughter and son-in-law. "Go home and hug your baby. Don't start anymore fires, Van. And Kyra, go home and make sure your brother does his homework and eats… and shower.

They all mumbled their responses, each coming up to Reba and hugging her as carefully as they could manage. Van kissed her forehead and closed the door behind him, leaving Brock and Reba all alone. They stayed in silence for a long time. Comfortably.

Brock stared out the window while he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. She watched him while he sorted out whatever he needed to say in his mind. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"It's over, Reba."

"Hmm?"

"Barbra Jean and I. I'm signing the papers when I get home."

"Brock."

"Henry isn't mine."

"You're the only father he's ever known."

"She lied to me. Granted, not intentionally, but it's all the same." he let his head drop down on the bed beside her, still clinging to her hand. "It shouldn't have turned out this way. I knew what she was like when you hired her to replace you. I should have seen. I should have known. "

"Enough with the could have, should have. What's done is done. You can't change it. We can't change it."

He looked up at her. "You're right."

"All we can do now is more forward."

He inhaled. "Together?" He held his breath.

Reba ran her hand through his dishevelled hair. "You need to sleep."

He closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them. "I love you, Sweetheart."

"Shhh, I know." she murmured.

She continued to play with his hair until she was sure he was asleep then she sighed and rolled her head to the side to look out the window. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blamed it on the medication. The twisting in her stomach and the pain in her heart weren't satisfied with that excuse though. Why did he have to do that? Reopen old wounds? She'd finally put her feelings on the back burner and now this. She bunched the sheet tightly in her hand and squeezed her eyes shut, making a tear slip from her eye. Pinching the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb she tried to force the words he'd said out of her mind.

But she couldn't.

"I know you do." She whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

In the hospital parking lot, Brock sat in his car for the longest time. Much to his frustration, Reba had finally forced him to go home, but he didn't have a home anymore. Home hadn't been with Barbra Jean for a long time. He wasn't going to be able to stay there the night. He hoped Barbra Jean was asleep already because he didn't think he'd be able to keep a civil tongue if he set eyes on her.

He crept in through the kitchen door and walked quietly around the house, sighing in relief when she wasn't there. He was starving. There on the counter sat an envelope, he picked it up and slid the papers out. It was the divorce papers, and Barbra Jean's name was signed at the bottom. A note slipped out from between the papers and landed on the floor. He picked it up.

_Brock,_

_I have Henry, we're in Fisheye Bottom with Big Daddy. Don't worry, we're fine. If you still want to keep in contact you know how to find me. If you still want joint custody, we can work that too. If not, this can be goodbye. I'll understand. _

_Please tell Reba that I'm sorry, Brock. I knew when I heard her scream that everything was ruined. The final nail in the casket. It snapped me out of whatever trance I'd been in and I ran straight home, packed a bag, took Henry and left. If either of you can ever forgive me for everything I've done, send me a sign. I'll be here just like always, but I can't face either of you. I'm too ashamed. That's why I left. I can't live in Houston anymore knowing that the people I've hurt so badly are just down the street. _

_I know it's over between us now, and I've signed the papers._

_p.s. She's always been yours. Go get her, Cowboy._

_Love,_

_Barbra Jean_

Brock scratched his head and blinked. He needed to sit down. "She's gone." he said into the empty house. "Just like that."

Just like that all his mistakes were gone. He didn't know if he should jump up and down in celebration or sit down and cry. Henry was still his son. He raised him. He shook his head, this was not something he could deal with right now. He had the well-being of his children and their mother to worry about. He slipped the papers back in the envelope and left them on the counter. He'd come home expecting to have to force her to sign them only to come home and find the ink already dry.

"I can't stay here tonight." he said shakily.

Jake looked up to find his father coming through the door. "Dad? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You don't mind if I say for a few nights do you?"

"Pffft, nope."

Brock grinned and hung his coat on the coatrack then sat beside his son on the couch. "Anything good on?" he asked.

Jake hit the power button on the remote. "Kyra's been in her room since she came come from the hospital. I tried to talk to her, but she won't open her door."

He sighed. "Has she eaten?"

Jake shook his head. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's alright. She's just had a tough couple nights, Bud."

Jake nodded slowly. "Mom's okay?"

"She's alright too. Son, why didn't you tell me your mother was having a hard time?"

"I didn't want to tell you. You stress her out. So, I told Kyra instead. _She_ lives here still." he said accusingly. "When she's not playing somewhere anyway."

Brock winced. "It couldn't have been easy watching your Mom self destruct like that."

"It wasn't." he stated. "You know, I found her passed out at the kitchen table a couple times."

"Drunk?"

Jake shook his head. "No. She hasn't had time to drink. For the last couple months she's come home really late from work and when I asked her why she said it was because she didn't want to bring work home with her. What are they making her do over there?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Jake shook his head again.

"Their senior agent got sick and Mr. MacKenzie asked her to fill in until he got better. Well, the agent died and Mom got to keep the job. I guess she's been working double duty to keep up with it all."

"Dad?" Kyra called from the top of the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

"He's staying with us for a while. That's okay, right?" Jake said.

She came down with them and sat in a chair. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's Dad."

"This doesn't mean we won't have a few rules while I'm here. It'll be just like it's always been."

"I'm eighteen and he's thirteen—"

"Kyra, Sweetie, I don't care. We're all going to be civil with each other and I've got a few things for us all to do before your mother is released from the hospital."

"Like what?" Jake asked.

"We'll get started tomorrow. Right now, who's hungry?"

The kids groaned.

"I'm not that bad!" he exclaimed. "Fine. I'll order out…"

After they ate the kids went their separate ways, and Brock got back in his car. This time armed with things for Reba to do when she was in her room alone so she wouldn't go out of her mind. She was sleeping peacefully when he got there, so rather than wake her up, he started placing her things around. A picture of the kids on the table beside the bed, a few pictures drawn by Elizabeth pinned to the wall, her iPod, a couple books he knew she'd been trying to finish and a few other things.

As she slept she moaned contently from time to time and he smiled. She did that when she slept well and snored quietly when she didn't. One of her many quirks. He sat down in the chair beside her bed and picked up one of the books he brought and looked it over and rolled his eyes. Romance. But, since he'd forgotten his phone back at the house he decided he'd read for a little bit. Once he'd started he couldn't stop. Now he knew why Reba liked them so much. Every single love scene bordered on smut, intensifying with each one.

"Brock?"

He sat up with a start and tossed the book behind the chair. "You're awake."

"Good book?" she snorted.

He rolled his eyes and picked it up from the floor and placed it in her waiting hand. "How long have you been awake?"

She waved the book. "Long enough to know that you're completely invested."

"Jesus, that's what you've been reading all these years?"

She nodded with a smile. "Romantic, isn't it?"

"Pffft." he scoffed. "Have you forgotten that we were once married?"

"And did you forget that you left me?"

He exhaled. "You sure know how to kill a moment."

"Mmhmm." she grinned. "Hey, thanks for doing all this by the way." she pointed to the picture on the table and the drawings on the wall. "It's sweet."

Brock knew he had to tell Reba about Barbra Jean running off, she needed to know. He didn't know how he should go about it so he dove in. "Barbra Jean's gone."

Reba's eyes popped open in surprise. "What? Gone? Gone where?"

"Fisheye Bottom with Henry."

"She took Henry?" Reba cried.

"She took Henry and left the divorce papers signed on the kitchen counter."

Reba's mouth gapped open. "She signed them?"

"And left a note for me, telling me to sign them too."

"What about Henry? You're not just letting her take him away from you, are you?"

"She's still willing to have joint custody."

Reba swallowed. "Is that what you want?"

"Honestly, Reba? I don't know what I want." he paused. "Actually, yes, I do. I want you to focus on getting better. Forget about Barbra Jean. She's not even in the picture right now. She's gone and she's not coming back unless we give her some sort of "sign," whatever that means."

Reba tried to sit up slightly. "Just like that? She won't be back?"

"Yeah."

"Have you even been home? You're wearing the same clothes."

"I was. I didn't stay the night."

Reba was suddenly very concerned. "Where did you stay?"

"In Cheyenne's old room."

"You stayed at my house?" Reba exclaimed.

Three weeks had passed and Reba's hip had healed enough for her to be on her feet, using crutches with someone spotting her. She was ecstatic. Today she was finally able to go home. When Brock walked into her hospital room she was sitting on the bed, dressed and ready to go, swinging her good leg.

"This better be the last time I walk through that door, Reba." he said sternly as he helped her to her feet and grabbed her bag. "And I mean it."

She rolled her eyes and hit his shoulder before he handed her crutches to her. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you sure you don't want to use a wheelchair to get to the car?"

She held up her hand. "I've been bedridden for the past three weeks, I need to be on my feet."

"Even if the Doctors advised you not to?"

"Yes."

He groaned. Stubborn as ever. Her hip wasn't even completely healed. One hard fall could land her right back in that bed for another few weeks. But as per usual, Reba didn't take anyone's advice and decided to do her own thing.

"Don't push yourself, Reba. If you can't make it, don't force it. I don't want to have to sit at your bedside holding your hand waiting for the anesthetic to wear off again."

She hobbled her way to the open door. "Stop being so overprotective. I'm not five. I'm way more than five." she laughed.

Getting into the car was hard enough on her, getting out was another story. Brock watched her struggle and was ready to step in the second she asked for help. He stood with his hands on his head, grabbing his hair in his fists as he tried to keep from lashing out at her.

"Reba."

She looked up at him with a glare. "Brock, I got this."

Brock winced as she pulled herself to her feet, her face twisting in pain. "That's it." He moved quickly and picked her up in his arms leaving the car door open in the driveway. He put her down and made her sit on the bench. "Now, stay there. I mean it." he went back to the car to get her things and when he returned she was already through the door.

"Home sweet home." Reba smiled.

"What happened to "stay there. I mean it?" he asked as he moved beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist. She draped her arm over his shoulder and together they walked to the sofa and didn't let go until she was seated comfortably on the couch.

"Well, I figured—"

"Yeah, you figured."

Footsteps came running like a herd of elephants down the stairs. "You're Home!" Jake greeted. "Thank God! I missed you so much!" He leaned down over her and embraced his mother. "It's so quiet when you're not here. Nobody yells at me. It's weird. I don't like it."

Reba laughed and squeezed him tight. "It's good to hear that you like having a mother."

"It's too weird when you're not here. The house doesn't feel the same." Cheyenne said through the opening between the living room and kitchen. She came around and sat on the couch beside Reba. "It's so good to have you home. Maybe now Kyra can stop wigging out and act like an eighteen year old again instead of trying to fill in for you."

Reba looked up at Brock. "Yeah. She's too much like you."

"Come here." Reba laughed and pulled Kyra down onto the couch with her. Kyra hadn't said a word since her mother came home. "That's my girl." she whispered into Kyra's long red hair.

"I missed you, Mom."

"I know you did. I missed y'all too." she squeezed Kyra's hand. "But now I'm home and it's business as usual. Jake, is your homework done?"

He froze. "Ugh, I didn't have any?"

She pointed to the stairs. "Jake, go. Get it done." She shook her head. "Hey, wait a minute. Where's Van?"

"He's in the kitchen." Cheyenne said.

"Mrs. H! Come in here!"

Brock gapped. "Van! She's not supposed to be—" But Reba was already on her feet with the help of Cheyenne. "I give up." he sighed.

"This is not my kitchen!" Reba cried the second she set foot on the tile. "What did y'all do?" she looked around, the cupboards were stained a dark walnut and the counter tops were a salt a pepper marble. "Brock! Get in here!" she yelled.

"Yes?"

"Did you do this?" she asked.

"We all helped." Cheyenne said.

"But it was Mr. H's idea!"

"Kids, would you give me a moment with your father?"

Van nudged Cheyenne as they walked away. "I don't think she likes it."

"Shhhh!" Cheyenne moved around the corner and listened.

Reba leaned on the island. "Close that." she pointed to the pass through. Brock didn't hesitate. "What in God's name possessed you to remodel my kitchen, Brock? Are you out of your mind!"

"A change might be good for you, Reba."

She laughed. "A change? You call this a change? You didn't even consult me!"

Scratching his head, he sat at the kitchen table.

"New chairs too?"

He shook his head. "Same chairs, same table. Everything's the same."

"Not the counter top! Is this marble?" she asked running her hand over it.

He nodded.

"Why? Why did you do this?"

"I did it for you, Reba! You've been living in the house for thirteen years and all the while we were married you didn't once say you wanted anything upgraded."

"Because it was functional! Brock, I—" She stopped and pressed her hand to her forehead.

He held his breath. Her blood pressure. This is was he was trying to avoid by doing this.

"It's beautiful."

He was shocked. "What?"

"It's gorgeous. I love it. But if you ever spring something like this on me again I'll skin you alive."

He swallowed. "Then I guess it's best we wait a while before bringing you upstairs…"

Her face dropped. "What did you do?"

He rose from his chair and took her hand. "Come see."

She groaned. "Brock."

"Come on, you'll love this too." he smiled. He hobbled with her to the stairs then picked her up in his arms again and brought her up the stairs before she could object.

"You're gonna kill your back."

He chuckled and continued on. Down the hallway and into her room. He remembered doing this the afternoon they moved into the house. Of course, that afternoon they'd also christened it and there was no chance of that happening at this point. No love making was going to happen on her beautiful queen sized bed tonight even if she was physically able to. In fact, she'd probably send him back to his own house tonight.

He set her down in her room then sat on her bed. She looked confused as nothing was different, but when he nodded his head toward the bathroom she paused before going in. She was silent. He waited in her bedroom with his feet dangling over the bed incase she decided to yell, but she never did.

"Reba?" he called softly as he came in behind her and set his hands on her shoulders. They shook. Was she crying? "Reba?"

"Why?" she whispered breathily.

"You needed this."

"No, I didn't, Brock. I didn't need all this."

"You deserve it, Honey."

She shook her head as she looked around. The wall with the window was painted a fresh green while all the others were painted a clean white. The combined shower and bath was replaced with a beautiful spa like bath. The sink was behind her and when she turned around, she ran her fingers over the cool china.

"How much?"

He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bathtub. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, Brock. Yes, it does. You can't just up and do things like this. Especially for me. You can't just up and remodel my entire house."

"And why shouldn't I do things like this for you?"

"I'm your ex-wife. Ex as in excuse me, but we don't live together anymore."

"That's right. I don't live here, but you do."

"I'm nothing to you anymore, Brock! The day I signed those papers was the day I stopped meaning anything to you."

"You are the mother of my children. You are always going to mean something to me. Not to mention, you," he touched her arm then tipped her head up and smiled. He didn't think she'd be this emotional over everything. This was Reba though, she was never predictable. He gave her a look that she'd know meant to give him a smile. She did. "You've always been my best friend."

That was not what she wanted or needed to hear right now… and she broke.

"Red, come on. Don't go getting all emotional on me now." she buried her face in her hands. "Sweetheart, please. I wanted to do this for you so you'd have somewhere to go wind down when the stress gets to you."

"And it's beautiful, but, Brock—"

"You don't deserve it. Yes, I know. Sit down." He helped her to the edge of the bath tub. "You do deserve it. After everything you've done for the kids, for me, for Barbra Jean, for Barbra Jean _and _me, you deserve it. You don't have to, or need to do most of the things you do for everyone, but you do them because want to. Well, I wanted to do this. It's the least I could do."

She shook her head again with the smallest hint of a smile and he pulled her against his chest. She inhaled into his shoulder and the scent she was expecting was the scent she found and she laughed as she pulled back. "If we weren't divorced I'd probably kiss you right now."

"Who said we need wedding bands for that?" he breathed. He cradled the back of her neck and his eyes flashed to her lips. He gave her time to pull away and when she didn't he seized the moment and their lips connected.


End file.
